He made a sound of ‘good enough’ before going back to his coffee. “How are you? Everywhere I look your face is on a billboard, commercial, bus shelter, perfume counter.”
“Things are how they are. Living my dream, right?” My smile was brittle, so I took a sip of my hot chocolate.
“Looks like we both got exactly what we wanted?”
“Looks like it.” I set down my mug and stashed my hands in my lap.
“And from your face I can tell you’re loving every minute that this life has given you.” Sarcasm clung to every word. “But you invited me, so I think it’s time you tell me the whole story of the night you left me.”
6
Keyton
Bay’s face flushed, but she didn’t look away.
I stared into those brownie-batter brown eyes, wanting to peel back everything and show her the rawness I’d been working on healing for far too long. Sitting across from her, I wanted to hold her hand in mine, run my lips over hers. This was exactly why I’d avoided any contact over the past six years. But this was the chance I didn’t ever think I’d get.
When I’d handed off the guitar to Felicia, I’d expected her to run back to me. I’d expected Bay to show up on my doorstep with the guitar in hand and tell me it had all been a mistake. One week had turned to two after Felicia let me know she’d sent it, and that’s when things had gone from bad to worse. All those ugly words I’d known were true blared in my ears, and losing so much all at once—I’d only made it through to the other side by clinging to the cliff’s edge with my fingertips.
And then she had come back, my muscles locked up and I couldn’t make myself let her in.
Not after her first text in LA, which had been like a pitcher of ice water over my head. There had been texts and emails that came after, but I couldn’t make myself respond. Every time I felt like I’d be dragging her into the churning pit of my life and drowning her right alongside me. And after she showed up at my apartment in LA, I’d woken up covered in my own sick with Knox banging on the front door to our apartment where I’d passed out listening to the buzz from the intercom. He bruised his shoulder, busting the door down since I’d been passed out blocking his way inside.
She’d been gone by the time I staggered downstairs and looking at myself then still drunk, covered in puke and barely coherent, I knew she’d been right. I’d been too afraid of losing the sliver of a grip I’d had left.
For that year, outside of my time in the gym or on the practice field, I was a plane pointed straight down, engines full throttle, with the ground screaming toward me.
After hooking up with Monica, it had gotten easier to make it through. I wasn’t on a roller coaster without my seatbelt buckled.
Bay drummed her fingers along the mug. “Maddy sent me a message when you were at the meeting with your coaches about the fight, and then later in the night—in the middle of the night, she sent another.” Her gaze was trained on the slowly dissolving marshmallow foam in her hot chocolate. “It was an offer to perform with Without Grey in Seattle. And go on tour with them.”
“That’s a good start.”
Sitting in front of her, I couldn’t help but stare. I’d seen her so many times over the years. On TV, on magazine covers, billboards. Today was the first time I’d gotten to be this close to her for more than a few minutes in so long—too long.
“I couldn’t turn down the opportunity.”
“Do you remember what you put in your letter?” My throat tightened, clogged by the memories of sitting in my dark, destroyed dorm apartment, trying not to ruin what was left of my life. I set my elbow on the table and covered my mouth with my closed hand.
She ripped her gaze away from mine. “I might’ve blocked some of it out.” Her bottom lip shook before she tucked it between her teeth.
Every word had been branded on my brain, etched and carved into the soft gray matter to the point that I was unable to forget them. Just like the ones she’d said to me standing on the sunny high school field in June ten years ago.
“Here are some of the highlights: By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be on a plane.”
“There are so many things I’ve wished for since you’ve come back into my life. The number one is wishing it was the right time for us. But it isn’t.”
My stomach knotted and twisted like it had reading those words in my training camp apartment. How I’d repeated them in my head when it was in a trashcan or toilet or I finished off another bottle of alcohol.
“You are worthy of love and deserve someone who’ll love you, but they can’t be the one who fixes you. No one can fix us.” I cleared my throat.
“I’m still working on figuring out who I am. I can’t be the one to keep your head above water when I’m treading in my own ocean. I need to find my own path.” How lost and scared she’d been had flayed me. It had ripped through so many wounds I’d thought I could ignore, until I couldn’t.
“I wanted you to know without a doubt. I forgive you. But I can’t be with you. I’m sorry.” The rage and terrified feelings that had welled up for a long time after thinking about what she’d said weren’t there anymore. Now I felt sadness that I’d backed her into that corner, that she’d felt responsible for me in a way she never should have. There was still anger and complicated feelings I’d probably never work through, but they didn’t blind me, clouding my vision until I lashed out to escape feelings too sharp to handle.
She wiped at the corner of her eye and chewed her lips. “Going straight for the meat, huh? You’d be a great hard-hitting interviewer.”
“Why not lay it all out there?” Yank on the release valve to quiet the buzzing in my ears. It was always better to get it out than to try to hold it in, try to stifle or smother the feelings.
Sniffling, she lifted her head. “I was scared.” A long choppy breath escaped through her lips. She glanced around the room. “So scared.”
The few men in suits and business casual gear sat at tables and desk cubicles, reading their papers, focused on their laptops, or eating their food. Some did all three at once, but they faded away when I was sitting at the table with her. The lump in my throat turned to an anvil. “Of me.” How close I’d come to lashing out and hitting her in my blind fury kept me up at night for a long time after she left.
Her eyes shot to me and she shook her head. “Of our situation. Of how sure you were that being with me would solve all the problems you were trying to work through. The whole month, things seemed to be deteriorating for you, and I didn’t know how to stop it except by leaving. When you first showed up you felt so different and the longer we were together, it felt like you were getting worse. Like I was making you worse.”
She jabbed a finger at the center of her chest. Her throat muscles strained and she took a long sip of her drink.
“The fight…that was my powder keg.” It should’ve been my wake up call, but it wasn’t.
“You kept talking about how you didn’t care about getting kicked off the team and you’d follow me around the country or wherever I needed to go, but I saw you play. I finally saw you play, and I saw how happy it made you. How you loved signing autographs and taking pictures with the fans. And I was afraid…”